It's Classified
by peppersnap
Summary: (Non-demigod AU) Annabeth Chase is a top operative at the CIA, and she has been assigned with a vitally important mission that most operatives could only dream of. But there was one problem. She was assigned to work with Percy Jackson, an arrogant airhead whom Annabeth loathed. The worst part? They were being sent undercover to attend high school.
1. Prologue

"Do you have the flash drive?" Will asked, his voice crackling Annabeth's earpiece.

"Yes," Annabeth grinned, looking at the small, plastic stick in her palm. It was hard to believe that some of the most dangerous missile technology was sitting in her hand, taking up no more than two square inches, but it was true. "How am I getting out of here?"

Annabeth was standing on top of a skyscraper in Chicago, strong gusts of wind threatening to push her over the edge. Hanging out on the edge of a five-hundred foot tall building during a windstorm was not ideal, but the alternative was the three armed men currently stuck behind a locked door directly below her. She knew the door wouldn't hold for long, but her hope was that her tech support, Will Solace, would have something figured out.

"We've got a helicopter coming for you in approximately two minutes," Will informed her. Annabeth sighed with relief, because even though there was a gun strapped to her leg, it was only for emergencies. "Wasn't this supposed to be a simple intelligence collection mission? You weren't supposed to get involved with a group of terrorists with machine guns"

"Yes, the operative word being _supposed_ ," Annabeth retorted. "I'm doing my best, okay? It wasn't my fault that the terrorists wanted the drive!"

"Whatever," Will conceded. "Do you see the copter? It should be near you by now."

Annabeth looked in all directions, but didn't see anything except buildings.

"Nothing," Annabeth replied. As she spoke, she could hear gunfire, and bullets hitting metal, as the men below her attempted to blow open the locked door. "Will, I only have about twenty-three seconds before I get attacked. Where is the copter?"

Will began to answer, but then Annabeth got her answer. She heard it first, the deafening roar of the helicopter blades spinning through the air, but then she saw the chopper heading straight for her. But it was too far away, and unfortunately, Annabeth knew she was going to have to fight. Sighing discontentedly, she pulled the handgun from the holster on her leg.

When the three men burst through the door, Annabeth was ready. Before they had even crossed through the doorway, two of the men had bullets buried in their shoulders. Of course, she could have hit them straight between the eyes, but Annabeth tried to avoid killing people as much as possible. The third man had his gun trained on Annabeth, but he seemed to be having a problem loading it. While the man was fumbling, Annabeth shot his right hand, causing him to drop the gun. All three of the men being hampered down by bullet wounds, Annabeth held them at gunpoint while she collected their discarded guns. By this point in time, the helicopter was hovering directly above her. She was safe. But more importantly, she completed her mission.


	2. Chapter 1

Annabeth was angry when the phone rang. After her recent success with retrieving the flash drive, she was supposed to have a day off, and she had planned to stay home all day. But with the agency, terrorists and criminals don't take days off, so neither do you. Sighing, she picked up her cell phone and answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Sorry, Chase, I know it's your day off, but we need you to come in," answered the voice on the other end. It was Will Solace, who worked in the technology department in Annabeth's division; the Clandestine Affairs and Operations Division **(AN: this is a made up division)**. He acted as her correspondent between herself and the agency, and communicated with her on missions. At the agency, they called these people _techies_.

"Ughh," Annabeth groaned. "I'll be there in twenty."

She hung up, and tossed her phone onto the bed. Mourning the loss of her relaxation day, Annabeth changed out of her sweats and into her suit. She wasn't known for being particularly girly, but Annabeth still wore heels to work every day. Not for fashion, of course, but because they improved her balance and worked out her calf muscles. As she pinned back her hair, and scrambled around her apartment to find her briefcase, Annabeth wondered why the heck she did what she did.

When Annabeth was young, if you asked her what she wanted to be, she wouldn't have hesitated before proclaiming, proudly, that she was going to be an architect when she grew up. She had her whole life planned out by age seven; after high school, she would attend Stanford University, graduate at age twenty-two, find a job at an architecture firm, get married at age twenty-seven, and have three daughters by age thirty-four. But here she was, seventeen years old, already with a job at the Central Intelligence Agency as an undercover operative. The CIA didn't generally accept teenagers, but Annabeth was an exception. After she hacked the CIA database for fun, and slipped into Langley to steal the laptop of the Director of Clandestine Services on a dare, the CIA had no choice but to train her as an operative, lest she make her way onto the 'Most Wanted' list instead. Now, Annabeth worked at Langley, living alone in Washington DC, her family under the impression that she had been accepted to college early. She never regretted the direction her life had taken, but she still wondered what would have happened if she had turned down the agency and become an architect instead. As an architect, she would probably never have to take an impromptu trip overseas because a bomb had detonated in Ghana (that had happened), or have to jump off a skyscraper in Tokyo because she was being chased by an arms dealer. And instead of scrambling around her apartment to find her CIA badge on a dreary Saturday morning, she could be hanging out with friends her own age, or waking up to the smell of pancakes wafting up from the kitchen. _In the grand scheme of things, though_ Annabeth thought to herself, _It's all worth it._ This, she knew was true. She needed the field as much as the field needed her. Annabeth was never one for routine, and the CIA was anything but routine.

Annabeth didn't realize she was lost in thought until a car alarm went off on the street below, jolting her out of it. She looked at her watch, and cursed. She was supposed to be at Langley in fifteen minutes, and it took her eleven to get there, on a good day. Snatching her briefcase off the island, she resigned to the fact that she would have to forgo coffee if she hoped to be at the agency on time, and headed out the door.

* * *

"You're late," Will scolded as Annabeth stepped through the doors to the Clandestine Affairs and Operations Division.

"Two minutes!" Annabeth protested. "It was barely two minutes."

"Ms. Chase," Will said in a falsely stern tone. "This kind of activity is simply not acceptable!"

"Shut up," Annabeth elbowed him. "So, what was so incredibly important that you had to interrupt my day off?"

"Oh yes, sorry about that," Will apologized. "Something big has come up, and it has the whole division in a frenzy. Reyna won't tell me what the hell is going on, though. She's going to brief you, but I don't know where…there she is!"

Reyna, the head of the division, was walking towards us, and she looked like she was in a hurry. Reyna was a tall woman, with long dark hair braided down her back and intense eyes. She looked like the type of girl you wouldn't want to mess around with.

"Solace, Chase, briefing room," she called out to us. "Two minutes."

Without giving any more detail, she turned and walked away like she had much more important business to attend to. She probably did.

"I suppose we better get out butts over to the briefing room," Will said, standing up from his desk.

"If we're late, we're toast," Annabeth agreed. The pair of them speed-walked through the mess of people and desks that cluttered the main work area of the CAOD. The briefing room wasn't far, but Reyna valued punctuality, and if they showed up a second too late, she would not be pleased. Thankfully, Will and Annabeth walked into the briefing room moments before Reyna arrived. The room was busy, filled with the heads of multiple divisions, assistants and various operatives and techies.

"Thank you all for coming here on such as short notice," Reyna addressed the group. She pulled a slim remote control out of the pocket of her pantsuit, turning on the wall of screens behind her. "The CIA has recently been informed of a serious security breach in the British Foreign Intelligence Service, or MI6."

The screens behind Reyna were illuminated with photos and video footage of an explosion demolishing a wall of a concrete building; followed by security and EMTs swarming the scene. Faces of a few men Annabeth recognized as members of various gangs or criminal rings were pictured above, as well as several men and two women whom Annabeth had never seen before. In some of the pictures, the person's face was not visible, and in most it looked as though the picture had been taken without the knowledge of subject. Annabeth could tell these were suspects. For what, though, she couldn't say.

"This was the first of several attacks in various locations around Western Europe, particularly in countries with strong alliances to the United States," Reyna went on to explain, gesturing towards the explosions on the screens. "Three bombs were set off in three different buildings belonging to the MI6, and one in the MI5 headquarters. Carson, you ran point on Operation Trebule?"

Reyna was addressing Tom Carson, an operative to whom Annabeth had spoken to on a few occasions, but never officially met.

"Yes," Tom replied. "There was a suspected new terrorist group forming, and we had a mark, but we made our move too early and he backed out before we could apprehend him."

"It seems our man has made a reappearance," Reyna informed the group. She pressed a button on her remote control, and the screens all changed to various photos of one man. The man had olive skin, and his head was shaved completely bald, which revealed several tattoos behind each earlobe. "Emilio Daccini, born and raised in Italy, was the mark followed in Trebule, and his name resurfaced when we traced the purchase of recovered bomb parts from the explosions. We suspect he has been working underground since Trebule in '09 to continue the growth of his terrorist group."

Annabeth raised her hand, asking permission to speak. It wasn't as if she was in a classroom, but she didn't want to interrupt Reyna.

"If the man is smart enough to organize the bombing of three highly covert locations, wouldn't he be smart enough to erase any trails leading back to him through purchases?" Annabeth asked.

"We believe he did not intend for the bombs to leave behind any pieces, but the construction of one bomb was flawed, leading it to detonate only half-way," Reyna explained. "We have several small leads, and none of them would usually be large enough to follow through on. However, I have discussed with the DCS **(AN: Director of Clandestine Services – for future reference)** and several fellow division leaders, and we all agree that if this group is left apprehended, they could easily become a major global threat. We will be following through on all leads, so if you are in this room, we need you."

All of the screens simultaneously switched off. Reyna surveyed the room, giving time for the importance of the information to sink in.

"Chase, Solace, stay here," Reyna ordered. "Everyone else, return to your division or office, where you will be further briefed on your orders. Thank you."

As everyone filed out the door, Reyna shuffled all of the files on the desk in front of her into a neat stack. She tapped on her ear a couple of times, like she was activating an earpiece. Annabeth hadn't noticed the tiny microphone pinned to Reyna's collar until she spoke into it.

"Bring Jackson, ASAP"

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **How was it? Let me know any comments, questions, concerns or criticism in the reviews.**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

 **\- Pepper**


	3. Chapter 2

Annabeth didn't know what the heck Reyna was talking about when she said 'Jackson'. It could be the name of an operative, a case file, or even a chemical agent that Reyna planned to kill Annabeth with! Annabeth had no idea why Reyna would want to kill her, but 'having no idea' happened a lot in the agency. Secrets were part of the job description, and most information was need-to-know. She wasn't too concerned, though, because there was much more efficient ways of terminating agents than some chemical called 'Jackson'. But as soon as the door opened, Annabeth knew the Jackson walking through the door was a million times worse than _any_ chemical warfare agent.

As soon as the boy walked through the door, Annabeth knew he was trouble. The way he walked with a slight swagger, the way his dark hair was perfectly messed up (Annabeth figured it took him hours to make it look effortless), the way his dark suit was perfectly pressed, the way he slid off his sunglasses to reveal dazzling, sea-green eyes. She could tell he was arrogant, conceited and was going to be an absolute idiot. He held out his hand to greet her.

"I'm Jackson," he said in a imitation suave voice. "Percy Jackson."

He broke into a goofy, lopsided grin, and began humming the James Bond theme song. Annabeth groaned internally, and shook his hand briefly. Annabeth had heard of Percy Jackson, and you never really have 'heard' of anyone in the agency, because everything is kept on the down-low. But Perseus Jackson, star operative of the IAT (International Affairs and Threats), was known like a celebrity. And Annabeth hated him for it, because he was a hottie who knew he was a hottie, and a genius who knew he was a genius.

"I'm Annabeth Chase," she greeted him in a clipped tone.

"Well hello, Annie-beth," Percy replied, elongating the _o_ in 'hello'.

"It's Annabeth," Annabeth corrected, coldly.

"Whatever you say, Annie-beth," he grinned at her. She glared back.

"Why is _he_ here?" Annabeth asked Reyna, irritated.

"You're going into the field together," Reyna answered. Annabeth blinked at her. She looked over and Percy in disgust, and he winked at her.

"Better get used to me, Annie!" he said in a sing-song voice. Annabeth glared at him.

"For how long?" Annabeth asked Reyna through gritted teeth.

"Probably about seven months," Reyna replied.

"What!?" Annabeth exclaimed incredulously. "We're going in deep cover?"

"You don't want to spend seven months working with me?" Percy asked, sounding mock-hurt. "I thought we were friends, Annie!'

"If you call me Annie one more-"

"Annabeth, please," Reyna cut me off. She gave Annabeth a cool stare, as if she was daring her to finish my sentence. She shut up. "Would you both like to know where you are going to?"

Percy and Annabeth nodded.

"You will be stationed in Seattle, Washington," Reyna told the pair.

"Why Seattle?" Percy asked, just before Annabeth was going to ask the same thing herself. She had heard of Seattle; she knew Seattle brought the world Starbucks (thank you Seattle!), and she had watched the Seahawks past two Super Bowl games, but she had never actually been there.

"You both are going back to high school," Reyna smiled.

"WHAT?!" Percy and Annabeth exclaimed simultaneously.

* * *

"I'll be right back," Reyna said, and walked out the door.

"I would rather be sent to a Russian prison than go back to school," Percy complained. Annabeth wanted to reprimand him for complaining, but she was thinking the exact same thing. She wouldn't mind learning, but going to high school? A _normal_ high school? No thank you.

When Reyna walked back in, she had two folders. She handed one to Percy, and one to Annabeth.

"Annabeth, I assume you were listening earlier in the briefing?" Reyna looked at Annabeth.

"Yes ma'am," Annabeth replied. Reyna looked up at Percy.

"I can assume you were _not_ listening while you were being briefed," she asked him.

"You assume correctly," Percy grinned. "But I read the documents on the way over so you wouldn't chew me out when I had no idea what was going on."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. Of course, Percy thought he was above the rules, just because he was in the division for the elitist of the elite operatives. Annabeth was waiting for Reyna to tell him off, but instead, Reyna seemed totally cool with it.

"If you'll open the folder I just handed you, you will see your cover dossier," Reyna informed them. "You will be going deep cover in Whitney High School. We have evidence pointing to a suspect linked to the Western Europe attacks that may be located within the faculty at Whitney."

"What sort of evidence?" Annabeth asked.

"That is need-to-know," Reyna responded. "You both will be tracing any leads we can find at this school. You will attend this school for seven months, or until you find something. This trail is not our most credible, so it is likely you will not find anything. But we are in a crisis-response situation, and any and all leads must be addressed. Do you follow?"

Annabeth and Percy nodded, and Reyna continued.

"Here's the catch," Reyna said. "This operation is out of our bandwidth, and technically completely illegal. If you are burned, or we are contacted regarding your position at Whitney, we will deny all knowledge. You will be considered rogue operatives, and will be left out in the cold."'

Annabeth let this sink in. She had been on high-stakes missions before, but never something like this. If they got caught, that was it. They were burned, cut off from the agency entirely. That would suck, big time.

"This also means, while on the mission," Reyna went on. "You will have no contact with the agency, and we can provide you no other backup than the supplies we can give you at the beginning. And no techies, either. Jackson, I understand you have considerable technological skills. Am I correct?"

"Yeah, man, I'm boss a tech stuff," Percy answered. Annabeth was pretty sure Reyna would _not_ appreciate being called 'man', but once again, she didn't reprimand him. Instead she looked at him almost dreamily, like she was thinking about…no way! Annabeth noticed several things at once. She noticed Reyna's body position, the slight pitch change in her voice, and that look in her eyes. Reyna had a thing for Percy! For a second, Annabeth felt jealous, but then she felt angry at herself for being jealous, because she definitely didn't like Percy that way.

"Are you both in?" Reyna asked.

"I'm down," Percy shrugged, like it was no big deal. Maybe for him, it wasn't. Annabeth really didn't want to spend seven months with this idiot, but she couldn't turn down Reyna. Plus, no way would Annabeth let Percy have all the fun.

"I'm in."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **How was it? Let me know any comments, questions, concerns or criticism in the reviews.**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

 **Pepper**


	4. Chapter 3

The longer Annabeth sat in the car, the more she thought that maybe accepting this mission was not such a good idea. In order to cover any trails back to the agency, they had to depart from an airport six hours away from Washington DC, in Connecticut, and the drive had been less than pleasant.

In the movies, spies always had sleek, souped up, black sports cars with bulletproof glass and flame-shooters. In reality, not so much. The CIA operated on a tight budget, and first-class spy technology didn't exactly come cheap, so the transportation budget was pretty slim.

In lieu of transportation to the airport, Annabeth and Percy were given an ancient, Honda Civic that looked (and smelled) like it had been around since the fall of the Roman Empire.

The seats were itchy, the radio could only access a station that played nothing but children's music, and air conditioning was wishful thinking. Annabeth was driving, and the windshield wipers had stopped moving long ago, making it near impossible for her to see anything through the relentless rain.

And of course, to make matters worse, there was Percy. He sat in the passenger seat, which was the result of a long argument over who would drive, which Annabeth only won because she got in the car first and the doorway was too small for Percy to pull her out.

He had his feet up on the dash, and was still wearing sunglasses, despite the complete lack of sunlight. He had brought along an entire bag of snacks, and was chomping down on SpongeBob animal crackers. For a guy who had been acting like James Bond when they had met, he really was very unsophisticated.

Annabeth was a self-diagnosed misophonic, meaning the sound of loud chewing drove her to near insanity. She almost wished she wasn't driving, so she could put on a pair of headphones and ignore Percy, but being the driver was a pride thing, so she was willing to give up personal comfort in order to prevent Percy from taking that away.

Every time Percy's jaw closed on another cracker, Annabeth's desire to shove him out of the car increased tenfold. Of course, Annabeth would have no problem doing just this by using one of the seven, highly-effective methods of removing an unwanted passenger from a moving vehicle which she had learned in the fifth level of CIA training.

"Are you almost done with those animal crackers?" Annabeth snapped.

"Nuhebinclsh," Percy tried to say through a mouthful of food.

"Pardon?"

"Not even close," Percy replied, after swallowing his mouthful of cracker. "Why? You want some?"

"No thank you."

As Annabeth said this, she realized she actually was very hungry but, once again, she would not sacrifice her pride for an animal cracker.

She knew that she couldn't keep up this behavior for long, and she would have to start treating Percy like a normal co-operative but she wasn't going to cave in before they even arrived at their destination.

They drove in silence for the next hour, with the exception of Percy's incessant chewing and the squeaking noise the steering wheel made every time it was turned. The stretch of calm was broken by Percy.

"I have to go to the bathroom," he announced.

"Seriously? You could have gone at the last few gas stations like I suggested!"

"Well, I didn't have to go then!"

Annabeth shook her head, not able to comprehend how much of an idiot this guy could be. He was supposedly one of the best agents thee CIA had hired for quite some time, and Annabeth had seen him in action.

The CIA held meetings every other month to discuss operative performance. They would usually show videos of model operatives in mock-scenarios. Ever since Percy had his first big win, he had been featured in every single one.

In the scenarios, Percy would be faced with split-second decisions, and life-threatening complications, but he was always calm, cool and collected.

"I'll pull over at the next gas station," Annabeth conceded.

"Aww, thanks Annie-beth."

"Shut up."

From the minute the plane lifted off from Hartford to the moment it's wheels came to a halt on the runway in Seattle, Percy's hands remained clenched on the armrest, his knuckles white.

He stared directly at the seat in front of him, and his jaw muscles were so tight Annabeth wondered if he had somehow contracted lockjaw or something.

Not until the pair had disembarked the plane did Percy seem to relax a little.

"Are you okay?" Annabeth asked, without the tone of contempt which she usually adopted when speaking with him. Even though Percy could obviously keep his cool in the field, the flight seemed to have rendered him helpless.

After a few minutes, Percy was able to speak.

"F-fine," he stuttered, and grinned weakly. "Flying. Don't like flying."

Annabeth bit back a snarky comment. She still hated Percy, and hadn't been shy about letting him know, but he seemed so vulnerable in that moment that making fun of him just didn't seem right.

She wanted to ask why he was so terrified, but that also felt like intruding. She figured anything that made him as scared as that plane had was something that he had the right to keep private.

They waited at baggage claim and walked to the car rental building in silence. By the time they reached the glass doors, Percy had regained some of his usual swagger.

He swung open the door for Annabeth.

"Milady," he joked, bowing his head. Annabeth rolled her eyes and walked through, making sure to step on Percy's toes. Remembering Reyna's instructions, she walked up to the third counter from the left.

Behind the counter, a short, old woman stood, her fingers hovering over a keyboard. When Annabeth approached, the woman looked up.

"Good afternoon," Annabeth greeted her.

"Good afternoon. Nice weather, isn't it?"

"Yes," Annabeth replied. "But I heard it's supposed to start raining later. Unfortunately, I left my umbrella at the bus station."

The woman nodded, and gestured for Annabeth and Percy to follow her through a door behind her.


	5. Chapter 4

Annabeth wasn't sure what to expect in the room behind the door. Reyna had only said they would be 'collecting supplies', whatever that meant. She knew they weren't being given cars; otherwise they would not have had to ship their cars over the continent.

Annabeth considered the possibility that they would be given school supplies, although it seemed like it would be much easier to stop by a Target and pick up some of their own.

When they stepped through the doorway, Annabeth couldn't see much of anything. The lights were off, and the room must have been windowless because the only light was coming from behind the door, which still stood ajar.

The lights clicked on, and Annabeth recoiled from the sudden intense light. Through her squinting eyes, she didn't see anything special. They were standing in a warehouse-like room filled with neat rows of shelves stacked with boxes of all sizes.

"You both wait here," the woman instructed. "I'll bring the boxes to you."

Annabeth watched the woman disappear behind a row of shelves.

"Do you have any idea what she means by boxes?" Annabeth murmured.

"Not in the slightest," Percy replied.

The woman returned, pushing a cart loaded with plastic, lidded, opaque bins

"I assume the agency has not briefed you on the contents of these boxes?" she asked them, noticing their confused expressions.

"Correctamundo," Percy answered, making Annabeth groan inwardly at his slang. "There was no time, so we were told you would explain."

"I see," the woman pulled one of the boxes on to the floor. "We'll start from the top."

* * *

When Annabeth and Percy walked out of the car rental building, they were weighed down by bags filled with bulletproof vests, guns, radios, and all sorts of similar items they didn't usually give to spies.

"Can you believe they actually gave us this stuff?" asked Percy, shifting one of the bags on his shoulder.

"Well it makes sense, really," Annabeth replied. The woman in the shop had not explained to Annabeth _why_ the agency was giving them the equipment usually afforded to a SWAT team, but she could figure it out on her own. "The CIA isn't allowed to operate as a SWAT-type unit, but since this op is sort of off-book, we can use this stuff as long as we don't get caught!"

"Well, duh, I know that," Percy rolled his eyes. Annabeth was taken aback by how quickly she had forgotten how smart Percy really was. He didn't act like an intelligent person usually would, and Annabeth would know, seeing as she attended gifted schools and programs for her entire schooling career. "I'm just surprised they trusted us. We are the youngest operatives in the whole agency, after all. That's why they sent us! We should be seniors in high school right now!"

"But there is a reason why we are the youngest operatives. We're good," Annabeth reasoned. "We're good enough to be hired five years earlier than any operative _ever_."

"True," Percy agreed. Annabeth was surprised at the ease with which they were speaking: no sarcastic teasing, no murder-glares. Just a few minutes ago she had wanted to kick him, and she still sort of did, but the conversation had distracted her from hating Percy's guts. She was tempted to make a snarky comment about Percy's hair, which was hilariously messed up from the wind, but she bit it back. No matter how much she enjoyed hating him, it was nice to just be able to talk.

"Why would they think we need all of this anyways?" Annabeth wondered aloud.

"Probably because we can't get any back up," Percy mused. "This way we can be our own back up."

"Makes sense."

His answer really did make a lot of sense, which annoyed Annabeth, because she didn't like it when other people figured out things which she couldn't.

"Wait, are we going to have roommates?" Percy asked. "Where would we store all this stuff?"

"I sure as hell hope not," Annabeth groaned. It would be difficult to explain herself if a roommate found her closet stuffed with handguns and Kevlar.

In the car rental building, Annabeth and Percy had also each been given a set of car keys. They were going to have to drive separate cars, because two unrelated students sharing a car might raise suspicion. On each key ring was a note from Reyna. The note read:

 _These are agency cars, and they are my responsibility to maintain. I am trusting you. Please try your best not to blow them up._

 _Reyna_

"Reyna trusted me to not blow up a car?" Percy sounded incredulous. "She still hasn't forgiven me for the last three."

"Last three?" Annabeth gasped. "You've blown up three cars?"

"Four, actually, if you count the one that a Swedish mobster blew up for me," Percy replied in a nonchalant tone that made it sound like exploding motor vehicles was an everyday thing.

"How? What? Why?" Annabeth was aghast that he had somehow found a way to accidentally explode four cars.

"I guess it's just part of those high-stakes missions. You wouldn't know," Percy teased.

"Hey! I've been on high-stakes missions!" Annabeth snapped, indignant.

"Have you ever gotten shot?" Percy asked.

"You've gotten shot?"

"That's beside the point! Have you ever been shot on a mission?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Have you ever shot somebody else?"

"No, but I carry a gu-"

"Have the lives of thousands ever depended on your success?"

"No."

Percy sighed. "You've never been on a high-stakes mission like I have."

Annabeth grumbled under her breath, but she knew he was right. Percy was in the big leagues, and she was just short of making the cut. It was infuriating.

"So, how did you get shot?" Annabeth asked.

"I would tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," Percy said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Seriously! I want to know!" Annabeth complained.

"I'm not kidding," Percy replied. "It's above your clearance level."

"What? We have the same clearan-"

Annabeth faltered. She had always assumed that all operatives had the same clearance level, but now she realized that might be wrong.

"What _is_ your clearance level?" she asked.

"I was in the room when they sent the airstrike on the fortress in Kuwait."

"Holy s**t."


End file.
